Confess
by NauruAyumi
Summary: OneShot KisaxHiro, at the Inn where Tohru and Kyo have been married.He cursed himself. He cursed traditional Japan for making such ridiculous embarrassment-prone pants. He cursed gravity. He cursed her. He took it back. Contagious Concepts pt 5.


Part fiveContagious Concepts- A concept for my each of my favorite Furuba pairings. They take place after the reception of Tohru and Kyo's wedding (they're 22, it took him awhile to get the guts to ask her...). Its a moonlit night and there is something contagious in the air.

I'll be posting them as separate one-shots, because the ratings will change between them.

If you enjoy this one, please read my Kakeru x Komaki fic called 'Conference', my Arisa x Kureno fic called 'Content', Yuki x Machi fic called 'Confident', and my Rin x Haru fic called 'Confront'.

Disclaimer- Furuba isn't mine.

R&R! I'd love to know what you think. Tell me which fic/pairing I should post/write next! No flames please, flames hurt. But kind criticism is appreciated.

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Hiro awoke to the pale soft light of the moon, setting the deep blue-black darker than ink but lighter than pitch. It was staring at him like a glowing eye, peering into the warm water of a fishbowl. He felt he was the same temperature as the air, gently shimmering with the strange quiet of the late evening.

He sat for a moment, feeling the warmth and the sturdy pattern of the bark of the tree against his back. It was the same temperature as everything else and the feeling was strange, like he wasn't sure how to act about the lack of contrast and he expected it to be uncomfortable yet it wasn't. There was no one around to complain to, and complaining would help him make up his mind to what this feeling was. If he could just declare that it was unsettling then it would be so, but he had only himself to inform.

Unmoving, he looked like a woodcut from long ago. An image of a young man, his face obscured in darkness save for highlights of perfect illumination, wearing a plain gi tucked into long hakama and beneath a dark blue haori, reposing under an ornamental plum tree in full leaf.

Traditional clothes weren't really his cup of tea but Hinata, and more importantly Kisa, were wearing kimono (thanks to his mother) and had begged him to join them. He had trouble resisting the ex-tiger's face, imploring him innocently, but he'd had many years to learn to say 'no'. It was the expression on his four-year-old sister that was the deal-clincher. It was the first time he'd seen her in that sort of outfit (they didn't go to the temple on new years). She was absolutely adorable in light blue silk patterned with swallows and flowers in green and pink and purple with a new pink obi and a large bow. She had been tottering, not used to the extra weight in her low back and not really sure what she was asking of her older brother, prompted by both Kisa and Satsuki.

When she'd looked up at him with a big grin missing a tooth and said 'pweze', he could do nothing but scowl and grumble and do as he was told.

And so, he'd been poked and prodded, tied and wrapped like an oversized teenager-shaped present and then paraded like a circus animal around all the relatives who were not attending the occasion.

Satsuki was getting close to having her third child and though Tohru had kindly extended the invitation despite their relative ignorance of each other, she declined. She was getting quite heavy on her feet and not up to the journey so she sent Hiro, Hinata, and Kisa off in the shiny black car with Hatori.

It surprised him to see Shiraki, that woman who had been a teacher to Tohru, Kyo, and Yuki, sitting in the passenger seat. He'd heard rumors that the doctor was seeing someone, but he'd never imagined him to choose someone so like himself. He expected someone more feminine and sweet, to combat Hatori's blunt and private demeanor but they were two peas in a pod. Both were dressed in western clothes (making him feel silly and out of place), with short hair and unexpressive faces. Shiraki had an expression that gave the impression that she was feeling a bit old and strange, attending the wedding of two former students.

Hiro had shot up over the summer months and was no shrimp and he had expected to be sitting where the angular woman was sitting. By the time he had fussed with his sister's car seat and got her buckled in so as not to mess up her outfit, he found Kisa waiting for him on the other side of the car. She was waiting for him to get in. He slapped his forehead mentally. She was prone to motion sickness and needed the window seat. He was going to be crammed into the backseat of a car between his two favorite women. Too hot, too close, too hard to ignore. And he had no choice.

The whole way, a good (long painful) 45 minutes, he could feel Kisa's arm against his own and he didn't dare to turn his head to see her face. She would notice his blush quickly, and he knew she would ask if he had a fever and then put her hand on his forehead. He wouldn't be able to stand that. He could feel the hormones raging, running rampant and converging like flesh-eating maggots where their sleeves touched.

By the time they pulled in at the inn, his jaw was sore from being locked and his fingers stiff for the same reason. Sometimes he wished Kisa would just take the hint, and ask him if he liked her, then he could just tell her and get it over with, but instead she looked at him curiously, as if this was something new. Dense!

The knot at the front of his hakama had come untied from his nervous shifting in the car, and she reached for it to fix it and he bolted in a panic. He was greeting Tohru with an uncharacteristic friendliness in an instant, and rushed off with some lame excuse to go retie his pants in another. He flitted around, avoiding her, yet thinking about her every moment.

She was so elegant in kimono, he'd noticed, though he'd said yellow was a childish color. It was a lie; it looked wonderful with her hair, and she was carrying a bouquet of sunflowers as a 'preliminary' gift, and she shined when she smiled. He couldn't imagine anyone so perfect, and he couldn't see himself as anything but flawed. He found himself hiding off to the side, watching her like a stalker. It felt a little dirty.

Gagging at the idea of himself as a dirty old man, he closed his eyes, only to find her in his imagination as well. He wasn't creative enough to do her justice. He could picture her singing quietly to herself as she studied, building a sandcastle at the summer home, or standing before him in her pretty kimono. He just couldn't picture himself with her; she was like a goddess, though that sounded ridiculously cheesy.

The day grew on and he grew continuously more disgusted with himself. He wanted to be cool like Haru who was suffering stoically as his runaway love reappeared just in time for the ceremony. He probably never had to deal with keeping quiet. Haru would just come out with it, though maybe he'd say something strange that would confuse her. He got the girl anyhow.

Kisa had been looking for him, he'd noticed, but he'd been elusive. He knew her well enough that he knew where she'd look. Sure enough, she'd been to the garden, called into the men's bath, looked in the small study with the tall bookshelves. He hadn't been there. He felt a little bad that he wasn't giving her what she wanted, but then again, neither was she. It's not like she was looking for him so she could confess her undying love. He snorted quietly, not bothering to open his eyes.

He'd hid out with Kunimitsu from Shihan's dojo. Apparently he'd done something to annoy Kyo (big surprise…) and was on the run. They sat on a veranda facing the side fence, not a particularly picturesque part of the inn, and very out of the way. Eventually the older man went off to face his fears and Hiro went the opposite direction to sit under the tree.

That was hours ago. The wind shifted and he caught a slightly familiar scent, fabric and a fresh perfume, more citrus than flowers. He opened his eyes and turned his head. The strange heat made him feel like picking a fight.

It was that teacher again. She was walking quietly, approaching the tree.

"Oi. You lost?" He said, rather pleased with his voice. He sounded pretty tough; his vocal cords were nearly done stretching and though he wasn't a bass he wasn't a soprano either.

She stopped beside him and didn't really look at him. She was staring into the moon. He was a little surprised. This teacher was infamous for her short temper.

A blush was evident on her cheeks, though slightly masked by the darkness and the pale light. "No…" She trailed off. He scoffed and spoke his mind.

"Are you such an airhead that you can't hold a conversation?" He taunted. Her eyes finally met his. They were a very distracted shade of grey, if a color could be distracted.

"You're that kid…" He scowled. That comment did not sit well. Honestly, he wasn't 16 for nothing. A high school teacher should know better if she wanted to earn the respect of a possible student. She wasn't paying attention at all.

"What's it to you?" He retorted. A smirk was settling in between his cheeks. To his chagrin she wasn't being provoked. All he wanted was a good argument. He shut his eyes, letting his head loll against the hard trunk.

"Sohma, er, Kisa-san is looking for you." He opened his eyes again. He knew that. This woman was boring. Kisa liked her, too. He wished he could be in Kisa's class, even if it meant dealing with Shiraki.

"Yeah, and who are you looking for?" Her eyes bored into his for a moment and he stared back shamelessly. She turned away with a small wave and smiled and walked away. He didn't waste any energy watching her leave.

However, before she was out of earshot, he raised his voice to a falsetto and sighed dramatically. "Oh, Hatori-kun!" He chucked devilishly for half a moment as he heard the shoji door snap shut a little louder than it should have.

His laughter died quickly; such escapades were little relief from his misery. He leaned his head back once more only with a bit too much force. He let out a yelp after misinterpreting his own strength and put a hand to the back of his head. There was no blood but it burned! He squirmed a little, waiting out the pain. It made him want to roar, but he was a bit nervous about the kind of attention that would get him. He made do, gnashing his teeth and humming tunelessly.

"Hiro-kun?" The voice was something he was not expecting. He opened his eyes and she was there. Kisa. His face turned red, as he pictured how he must look, feet off the ground, hands on his head, teeth clenched together, face screwed up. Real attractive. She was worried, too. She couldn't give him the lesser indignity of laughing at him.

Pain forgotten, he took her in. She stood demurely in front of him, perfect. He crossed his hands over his chest.

"What do you want?" He said, trying to sound casual about it. He was at last in control of his face and he wanted his voice to match.

"Are you looking for Hatori-ojisan? Did you hurt yourself?" He blushed. She'd heard his final jab at that teacher woman.

He got up, flaunting his newfound height. If he couldn't be more dignified he would have to settle for bigger. There was a sudden lightness around his waist and he glanced down at the same time as her. His hakama tie was undone again. Again! And this time, they weren't staying up. She turned red. He turned red. They both turned. He was grateful they hadn't made it past his mid-thighs and he was wearing very normal boxers (dark green, plaid) but nevertheless. Why him?! He hiked them higher than they should go and dashed off.

He cursed himself.

He cursed traditional Japan for making such ridiculous embarrassment-prone pants.

He cursed gravity.

He cursed her.

He took it back.

Breath was knocked from body as he slammed into Haru full force. He looked up.

"Was the view some kind of new seduction technique, or are you just naturally awkward?" His voice was characteristically flat. Hiro retied his pants. Blushing some more (his role-model had to witness his ultimate humiliation as well!), he regained a fraction of his composure.

"There probably is no better time to confess." Haru looked off into the distance. "I'm going swimming. Good luck." He turned and walked off. Swimming? There was a decorative pond and a bath, neither particularly good for Haru's sport of choice.

He turned and jumped and yelped at the same time. He hadn't sensed Kisa right behind him. Inches. Centimeters. He hit the ground in a defensive stance. They both blushed again. He straightened and took a breath through his nose to calm down. She smelled nice. Nicer than that teacher. He ran a hand through his hair, then pulled the front of his gi closer. The action made him feel like a girl. She looked down and his hormones tingled.

"What was Haru-nii talking about? Con-" Her voice was timid and sweeter than anything he'd heard all day.

"Swimming? Kisa, don't be ridiculous." He was talking too fast as he cut her off. "You don't even know what swimming is? I didn't think you could be as ditzy as…" He stopped himself. It was low, even for him, to insult the bride. She was blushing even redder. He was buying time, but she'd taken it as closure.

Before he really knew it, she'd turned and was going away. Her hips swayed in an unfamiliar pattern because of her wooden sandals and he was distracted for a moment. She moved too quickly to be nonchalant. He'd hurt her feelings.

Desperation overwhelmed his embarassment, his years of silence. There was something about the moon that made was telling him that this was his chance.

He dashed to catch up to her, grateful for his long legs.

He grabbed her shoulder and turned her in one motion. Her eyes were shining and his cheeks were flaming.

"Confess, confess, confess." He muttered, almost too soft to hear. She didn't pull away from him. Maybe coming to ask him what Haru had said was a sign that she wasn't as dense as he thought. Maybe she was waiting for him to say something to her. She pushed a piece of her hair behind her ear. He trembled a little, though less visibly than she.

"Maybe you wouldn't believe it, but honestly!" He couldn't think of the right words. "Are you really that dense? Or are you playing dumb!?" He mumbled a little incoherently, his speech crecendoing and lowering at intervals. "And! Arghh!" He covered his eyes and took four slow breaths. Then, her hands were on his, peeling them away from his face.

"Hiro-chan? What are you trying to say?" He pouted a little.

"Love you." He mashed the words together into a mudpie of indignant emotion and sudden-longterm shyness.

"Huh?" She hadn't heard. It was so frustrating! He hunched his back a little and grabbed her shoulders with both hands.

"I love you, okay?!" He stared into her eyes. She seemed a little confused as he tried to control his breathing. It was like he'd just run a marathon.

Then she smiled and took his hand from off his shoulder, curling her fingers around his. She looked down again, demure, as a new, pinker blush rose across her face.

"I love you too."

He couldn't help it, he spun her into his arms and held her close as she blinked in surprise.

Damn wonderful embarrassing pants.

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R&R! Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what pairing I should write next.


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